


cherry lips

by wincestgoddess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Soft Dean Winchester, Soft Sam Winchester, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:21:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincestgoddess/pseuds/wincestgoddess
Summary: Dean feeds Sam fruit. And maybe Dean gets something in return, too.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	cherry lips

“No honeydew this time?”

“Ran out last week.”

“So… grapes instead?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll get some tomorrow.”

“From the farmers’ market.”

“Yeah, Sam, I’ll get it from the same organic place I’ve been getting your goddamn fruit for the last two months.”

“Drink your coffee. You’re snappy in the morning.”

“And you’re way too relaxed. Stop doing yoga.”

“It’s called meditation.”

“Whatever, it still sucks. Just like your honeydew.”

“Might do you some good, grumpy.”

“Not doing fucking meditation, I’m not the Dalai. Not eating honeydew either.”

“Cream’s in the pantry.”

“Why the fuck is it so high up?”

“Need a hand?”

“Screw you, I’m not short, Gigantor.”

Only a hum followed Dean’s words. Eyes narrowed, a snappish remark ready at the tip of his tongue, Dean turned his head to look at Sam. Yet, instead of the teasing, slightly smug smirk he was expecting, he was met with a real nice picture. A relaxed little brother, leaning back where he sat at the dining table, popping a strawberry into his mouth and closing his eyes in apparent bliss at the same time that an appreciative sound left his lips. 

Sam’s lips were a pinker tone, perhaps from the cherries mixing with the strawberry juice. Could’ve been the pomegranates as well. Truly, Sam liked a good spread of different fruits for breakfast. Mangoes, berries, hell, the dork even asked for exotic fruits if they had them at the market. Dean had had to cut off hippie chicks telling him about the benefits of whatever dragon fruit was too many times now.

Anyway, Sam’s lips. Yes, because they were the important topic here. They were a shade pinker and Dean was not jealous that it was the cherry juice that painted them that way and not his teeth after a while of nipping on the flesh. Definitely not. He wasn’t that crazy, yet. 

He _did_ however enjoy the relaxed posture, the not-tense shoulders and faint smile gracing Sam’s face. He especially enjoyed seeing that after the rough week of non-stop hunting they had. After taking off three vampires’ heads in a week, Sam deserved to enjoy his goddamn fruit so okay, Dean was going to let the coffee take care of his grumpiness and join his brother at the dining table.

“What are you doing?”

“That’s creepy, man. Your eyes are closed. How could you tell I moved?”

“Psychic powers.”

“...I know you’re joking, but do you even still have those?”

“Dean, _what_ are you doing?”

“Got my breakfast,” Dean raised his mug as Sam opened his eyes, “thought I’d join you.”

Just like a switch, Sam’s lips curled into a smile again. He picked up another piece of fruit, watermelon this time and didn’t say a single word as he ate it, ankle hooking around Dean’s as he did so, instinctively pulling him closer. As close as they can get. Their bodies were magnets in the morning, in the night when they slept, when Dean pulled Sam closer with a promise in his eyes and hands wandering down his back. 

“I hate honeydew.”

“I know, Dean.”

“Can’t I get you bananas instead?”

“You gonna pass on your bacon and eat fruit with me?”

“Not _every day_ , but I don’t know, once in a while.”

“Mhm, would be good for you.”

“You better not start about my cholesterol again.”

“It’s a real concern.”

“Life’s too short to worry about how many calories are in my doughnuts.”

“Good thing I’m here to do it for you, then.”

“Whatever, bitch. So… bananas?”

“Stop wiggling your eyebrows.”

“I’m not--”

“I don’t need to look up to know you’re smiling like a pervert and doing that thing with your eyebrows, Dean.”

“I can’t help it if phallic shapes get me going, Sammy.”

“I see that the coffee’s improved your mood.”

“Lots.”

“I do like bananas. I was getting bored of honeydew, anyway.”

“Good. Means there’s hope for you yet.”

“Shut up and eat your ‘breakfast’, jerk.”

Hiding a grin behind his mug, Dean sipped his coffee as they settled into a brief period of comfortable silence. That’s the thing of being with someone for thirty three years now and counting. No awkward silences. Sure, they have the tense silences after a fight or the somber ones after a close call. Awkward though? Never. They know each other from head to toe, more than that, they’re in tune with each other. So these little moments of peace and quiet on a lazy morning? Dean treasures them.

Exhaling a breath, Dean studied the bowl of fruit curiously, examining the colorful platter. He picked up a grape. Sam looked on, amused and fond. Instead of popping it into his mouth though, his big brother surprised him by leaning forward and holding it up to Sam’s mouth. 

Arching a brow, hazel eyes met green. A smile was given. Well alright, then. Sam wasn’t backing down either. Parting his lips, his teeth took hold of the fruit, grazing just barely against the pad of Dean’s fingers, a tongue making contact too. Sam leaned back and ate the given treat slowly; Dean didn’t look away. His eyes fixated on the move of his jaw when he swallowed. And he reached for another fruit. 

Neither Winchester said a word. This was, surprisingly, a first for both of them. It was new; something different, delicate hung in the air and neither of them wanted to break the spell. Dean feeding Sam. Hell, the closest it resembled was back when Sam was a baby and Dean would spoon feed him. Except that baby Sammy used to coo or if he was fussy, slap Dean’s hand away. Adult Sam apparently was bold enough to nip a little on Dean’s thumb after the third fruit, to let his tongue lick off strawberry juice from one of his fingers. 

Adult Sam was a whole new beast Dean had tangled with before and the beast just kept surprising him, kept giving him these heated glances that almost broke past the hazy fog of the general ‘morningness’. 

Fuck, it was too early for that.

Perhaps after breakfast.

Oh, the heated glances and pink tongue were still temptations, dangerous things that at any given moment would have Dean’s blood rushing south. If he was a lesser man and the table wasn’t screwed to the floor, Dean might’ve flipped it over and pinned Sam against the wall. 

But Sam seemed to be enjoying this new activity of theirs, so for him, Dean could control himself. It helped that his brother was a sight to behold. The half-lidded eyes were pretty, sure, but the relaxed smile and the slight flush on his cheeks, the work of his throat when he swallowed, the fine arch of his long neck? That wasn’t pretty, that was beautiful. Sam was fucking beautiful. And yes, at thirty-three years old, it still made Dean’s breath catch sometimes. 

He was suddenly and quite rudely if he said so himself, snapped out of his daydreaming when a cherry was waved in front of his face. Blinking dumbly, Dean looked from the fruit to Sam’s smile, then back to the fruit. Was he trying to feed _him?_ When did the tables turn?

Sam was smiling softly, this sort of dimpled smile that made Dean feel like a teenager and he looked like he _wanted_ to do this, too. Not like it was a chore or like it was expected of him just because Dean had been doing it for him. 

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Dean’s eyes flickered down, avoiding that profound gaze that would no doubt seek answers in his own. He could feel the heat, not rushing south but instead up and once again, he mentally cursed the fact that his freckles could make it so easy to tell when he blushed. He didn’t blush often, of course. Maybe… maybe just when Sam was involved. 

“C’mon Sam,” he coughed awkwardly, “you don’t have to.”

Sam frowned, lowering the cherry and trying to find Dean’s gaze. He didn’t exactly need to, though. It was all over his body language. The clenched jaw, the flickering eyes. The blush.

“Why not?” he still prodded gently.

“Listen man, I-I don’t expect you to… I mean, just because I…”

“Dean.”

He picked the cherry back up again, waited patiently for his brother to look him in the eye, then smiled gently and traced the fruit against slightly parted lips. 

“I want to.”

Taking advantage of the deer-in-headlights look he got in return, Sam chuckled quietly and slipped the cherry into an open mouth. He nodded in satisfaction when Dean apparently decided to just go with it and started chewing on it, confusion clearing from his face and making way for acceptance, and perhaps a little bit of awe from what Sam could make out.

It made Sam’s heart ache. Because he knew Dean, and he knew this was his brother’s way of saying he didn’t think he was worth this. He could feed Sam fruit but if the tables turned, he was astonished because, why would anyone go to that trouble for him? That’s what he viewed himself as sometimes still: trouble. 

And Sam was working so hard to change that mindset because he’d been in that place too, hell, he still was sometimes. But one thing he could always count on was Dean’s love. It was the only thing he’d ever known to be real. He wanted to do the same for Dean. He wanted to be an anchor, a comfort. He wanted to be the one person that Dean _knew_ would willingly, happily feed him fruit, the person that would get up at three in the morning and stay up all night with him because Dean had been dreaming of hellhounds. 

Maybe he’d have to work harder. Sam didn’t care. He didn’t care how many nights of kisses and worshipping Dean’s body it took. He’d spend two lifetimes dedicating his time to prove to Dean how much he was loved. Because the green-eyed boy who stole his heart at fifteen deserved that. The bow legged young man that breathed life back into his dull body after Jessica’s death with one simple kiss was worth _everything._

Sam might’ve been Dean’s weak point, but Dean was Sam’s _sun._ Not only his weak point but the engine of his heart, the thing that kept him going. The beautiful teen he’d stared for a minute too long when they went to the beach that summer many moons ago; and when the beautiful teen stared back at him and smiled, that’s when Sam knew it was over for him.

“...Not bad. Refreshing.”

“It’s a strawberry, were you expecting something different?”

“I don’t eat fruit.”

“But you like it?”

“It’s alright. Might even join you for a ‘healthy’ breakfast more often.”

“I have no problem with that. As long as you let me feed you again.”

A frown passed Dean’s face, probably thinking he was being mocked. After a minute or so of studying Sam’s expression though, he relaxed, leaned back and granted his little brother with a shy smile that so rarely graced his lips.

Lips painted cherry red now, just like Sam’s.

“If you want to, I guess.”

Humming, Sam picked up another fruit and this time, Dean opened up easily, confident now in Sam’s willingness. He even let his tongue wrap around Sam’s index finger playfully, a spark in his eyes. Morning grumpiness was most definitely not an issue here anymore. 

“Bananas next time?”

“You gonna feed me your banana, Sammy?”

“Well Dean it’s only fair if you feed me yours.”

Laughing, Dean pushed the bowl of fruit away, ignoring Sam’s sound of protest and pulled him into a sweet, _sweet_ kiss. He put up no resistance when Sam sucked his lower lip into his mouth, seemingly enjoying the cherry flavor if his hum was anything to go by. Dean couldn’t blame him. He was quite enjoying sucking off the strawberry flavor from Sam’s tongue, too.

“Careful, you kiss me like that every time I feed you fruit and I might wanna start doing it more often.”

Dean’s lips stretched into a tender smile, a loving smile, a smile that was only for the other half of his soul, the only one who knew how to get under those walls he’d built up since he was four and he whispered against Sam’s lips:

“I have no problem with that.” 


End file.
